


Opening the Way

by Domimagetrix



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Car Accidents, hospital rooms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-11 15:00:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11150835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Domimagetrix/pseuds/Domimagetrix
Summary: Sometimes we get lost in little nooks and crannies between life and death.





	Opening the Way

A nameless boy of sixteen kicked slush down the steeply-inclined sidewalk of a cul-de-sac. He'd missed the name on the sign as he had every Christmas for the past four years, recalling only that it had an Arthur and Round Table theme to it. Avalon? Marian?  His trek began at the top of the hill and descended nearly to the roundabout at the bottom, a walk he'd taken each year before he disappeared from the world and awaited the next cold December.

He still didn't know who he was. His name, his address, where his family lived, and indeed if this very cluster of homes included his own residence. The only piece of information he retained was the age when he'd first begun appearing here, and the number of times he'd undergone the Gray Ritual. The walk, the three gifts resting on the ground by a cardinal-shaped mailbox, the inevitable choice, and the toneless voice in his head reciting the Serenity Prayer as he opened his gift and his connection to the place drifted again. 

 _"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change things I can, and wisdom to know the difference."_ The non-voice in his head would repeat it as the tape adhering the edges of black paper together fell away and he clutched a stuffed giraffe in his hands. It was always the black gift chosen, the plush giraffe with the bronze Alcoholics' Anonymous coin fastened to the left ear with a plastic tag.

No stickers or cards bearing a name on the gifts, only the gifts. Two in blue wrapping paper, one in black, and intended for him.

It was mid-evening somewhere in New England, that much seemed right. A colorless and overcast day with light snow, gray and black where the slush had been scraped from the roads, marked the season. Strings of white lights wound about porches in the little community hinted at the month. Behind the houses, a scrolling marquee for the Bank of Something-or-Other announced the date, time, and temperature. 

 _"The serenity to accept the things I cannot change."_ He couldn't change. Without knowing quite how, he knew the two blue packages were Something Else, and Together, but his hands invariably found the black-wrapped one. The decision was made without him being aware of it. That was the Gray Ritual - a walk into some neighborhood on a bleakly colorless Christmas afternoon, the discovery of the two blue-wrapped packages he knew contained a coat and gloves, and the inevitable selection of the third bizarre gift.

The giraffe. The bronze coin in its ear. "Courage to change the things I can." Then falling asleep or returning to stasis or wherever it was he disappeared to in wait of the next Gray Ritual.

 _Courage to change._ _The way may be opened but you have to change._

With every few steps the boy shrugged the undersized coat until one sleeve could be held shut over his hand to warm it. Feeling would return to it as the other began announcing a bone-deep ache from the cold, and he'd shift it to the other sleeve and repeat the process. Never enough time to truly relieve the chill, only enough to juggle the miserable ache from left to right.

Nothing to do about it now; the Ritual was close and he wouldn't have to worry about it until next year.

The mailbox was close. Shaped like a cardinal, one wing was lifted all the way up to signal the mailman that someone's correspondence awaited delivery. Below it sat the trio of presents, fat white flakes falling everywhere around them but never atop them, visitors from a similar world refusing to comply with the simple physics of this one and defying the snowfall.

_The way may be opened, but you will need the courage to change._

He stood over the three gifts. A car pulled cautiously up the hill, blue-green LED headlights staring out into the dismal afternoon with alien intelligence. The driver flicked their high beams once as the car passed.

Blue and blue. A coat that would fit him and gloves to keep his hands warm. How? Why would he know? The giraffe was all he knew. 

The boy stooped and picked up the black gift. Straightened.

_The serenity to accept the things I cannot change._

Threw it into the road. 

He turned and picked up the larger of the presents, pulling at the light blue paper.

The world shifted. The quality of light changed, drenching the boy immediately through his too-small coat. Grass, brilliant green grass grew in the yards where snow had been, the roads and sidewalks clear and dry.

He smiled up into the sun, turning and clutching the now unnecessary coat to his chest as he welcomed change.

A horn blared, and the boy felt something in his leg snap and scream as he was thrown to the sidewalk.

_Darkness. Some things never change._

 

...........

 

The boy's eyes opened, but instead of the purgatorial downhill slope of a slush-covered sidewalk he saw the hanging panels of a hospital ceiling. Bar bulbs of fluorescent lighting changed color as he stared at them - green, blue, pink, orange. Too bright. Look away.

A face. Portly woman with thinning red hair sprayed solid in an unflattering shape, yet another color of which he'd been deprived for four years. Mom.

"Hey. Hey there, Sean. You're okay." Tears slid from her brown eyes, voice tremulous and husky with years of smoking. "Hey, baby. Do you hear me?"

The boy nodded. "Mom." His voice croaked.

She hiccuped. "We didn't know where you were. Four years we didn't know." She touched a tissue below her eye, leaving a tire track smudge of eyeliner below it. "You were in an accident. Do you remember?" Her hand ruffled his hair.

"The car?"

Another woman entered the room before she had a chance to answer, holding something wrapped in black paper in her hands.

Sean's heart sank.

The gaunt little woman addressed his mother. "Missus Delaney?"

Mom turned, sparing a glance at the other woman. "Yes?"

The newcomer paled. "I'm sorry. It was my brother that... hit your son with his car. He was drunk."

His mother's voice lost its warmth. "Your brother? He's responsible for this? And you come here, dare to-"

"Mom?"

She looked down at the boy. "It's okay, Sean. I'll get the doctor to see her out."

"No." The boy turned to the other woman. "That's a giraffe, isn't it? With a coin in its ear. Bronze AA coin?"

The woman's eyes widened. "How... it was for his fourth year sober.  _How..._ how can you know that?"

The boy reached toward the other woman. "Please? I have to see."

Mom moved, and the other woman stepped forward and held out the gift. "I don't see how... but Michael doesn't need it now. Do you want it?"

The boy took the gift, sliding a finger beneath the tape and lifting the paper. The giraffe as it had been every year for the past four years, a coin bearing the Serenity Prayer on one side and "to thine own self be true" in relief on the other side.

"This is the fourth one." Sean looked up to the woman for confirmation.

The woman looked ready for tears. "Every year. He fell off the wagon. He... I'm sorry." She backed timidly away toward the door, both hands clenching the strap of her purse like a lifeline. "I'm glad you're alive. The toy's yours if you want it."

The boy hugged it to himself. "Wait?"

The narrow blonde woman paused, eyes flicking between the boy and the mother.

Sean smiled. "Thank you. And it's not your fault. Your brother didn't know how to open the way, but he tried to the best way he knew how. It just took me longer to understand than it was supposed to." He clutched the toy tighter to the side of his face, the metal coin cool against his cheek. "He did it. I couldn't have come back otherwise."

Both women stared at him, sharing an expression of confusion.

 

............

 

Sean Delaney slowed and flicked his turn signal. "Vivien Lane" marked the turnoff to the little development in northern Vermont. The cul-de-sac looked mostly the same, although it was too cold for slush. Brilliant blue-white snow layered everything, even the street itself. The scrapers hadn't been here yet.

He eased the old Ford Taurus carefully down the hill, pulling the emergency brake and parking in front of the cardinal-shaped mailbox. He popped the trunk and retrieved the three gifts he'd wrapped carefully in blue and black wrapping paper and deposited them in the snow below the ridiculous bird. Returning to the car, he waited.

Hours passed. It would be evening soon, and Carrie and the boys would start to worry. He hated worrying his family, but today of all days it was necessary. One Christmas afternoon and his debt in this would be paid.

The radio spouted the fifth cheery Amy Grant song of the afternoon, and he'd almost given up when something moved in his peripheral vision.

A girl. Redheaded girl, maybe twelve or thirteen years old. She approached the gifts, looking forlorn. She stared at the black gift.

She looked up at Sean. Smiled. She bent and grabbed one of the blue gifts and disappeared.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Sean released the emergency brake and let the Taurus coast down the hill toward the roundabout.

The impact of the scraper into the rear bumper of the car shot Sean forward, the seat belt compressing against his chest. His head hit the steering wheel and he saw stars.

_Darkness. Some things never change._

 

..........

 

White hanging tiles. Fluorescent lights. A nurse's face smiled down at him. "Welcome back, Mr. Delaney. Your family's on the way here." She took note of the readout on a machine next to him, marking something on a clipboard, then nodded to him as she turned toward the door. "Rest a moment; I'll go get the doctor."

He was alone in the room for several minutes. He stared at the bulb bar above and watched it change color.

The door squeaked, and he heard footfall too light to be an adult's. He turned his head and beheld the redheaded girl from Vivien Lane. 

"Hello there." She put a delicate little hand on his shoulder. "You opened the way for me, didn't you?"

Sean nodded. "Did the giraffe make it through with you?"

She tilted her head in confusion. "Giraffe?"

"The black gift."

She shook her head. "We don't need the black one anymore, Sean. The way can be opened without it." Her smile dimpled a cheek. "The one who made the way for you didn't have the courage but had a good heart, so you needed the black gift to see the blue because he tainted them. Now nobody needs it. The way is open now and we can all come back."

Sean lifted a hand and she held it, squeezing. "I'm glad you came back. Did you have to stay long?"

She shook her head again. "No. Nobody even knew I was gone. My family waits." Her hands squeezed his once more before she released it. "You kept me safe, Sean. Thank you for opening the way."

She turned, left, and Sean looked up at the hospital room ceiling again, tears of gratitude streaming to his temples. 

No more black gifts. 

_Some things change._


End file.
